


when you say that you need me tonight (i can't keep my feelings in disguise)

by SexyCoinkiDicks



Series: It's Rather Like Being a Bloody Werewolf, Isn't It? [2]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Dirk, Alpha Farah, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Comfort, Consent Issues, Desperation, Dirk is a good boy and a good alpha and doesn't let Todd do anything he'll really regret though, Dubcon Kissing, Getting Together, Guilt, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, No Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Todd, Pain, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), References to Knotting, Relationship Discussions, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyCoinkiDicks/pseuds/SexyCoinkiDicks
Summary: Todd unexpectedly goes into heat, and Dirk copes as best he can.Part of my Brotzly Omegaverse series- stories uploaded as I write them, mostly out of chronological order, but can all be read as stand-alone one-shots.





	when you say that you need me tonight (i can't keep my feelings in disguise)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my favourite pervs.
> 
> This is actually the first fic I started writing in this verse, but as it kept growing and mutating I've only just finished it. The upside is I finally have something longer than 4k for you. The downside is it's probably not as smutty as you'd like it to be. But it's an important stepping stone in their relationship nonetheless. If you're worried about the consent issues mentioned in the tags I'll sum them up in the end notes, so skip down to those if you want the comprehensive summary. I can promise you though that Dirk has only the best intentions and does everything he can to not take advantage of the situation.
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Title from 'Glass In The Park' by Alex Turner
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from this work or any derivative works based upon them- I just like to play with them from time to time<3

Dirk wishes he’d had some  _ warning.  _ An alarm bell, an email, maybe some sort of well-timed letter politely alerting him to the situation right around the corner.

But when does anyone ever tell him anything?

As it is, the first he hears of Todd’s imminent heat isn’t a sound at all, but a smell. As in, the powerful, intoxicating aroma of a heat  _ already very much in progress.  _

It drifts into the room on the gentle breeze from the window, sweet and spicy and so absolutely sinfully  _ delicious  _ Dirk’s mouth begins to water. At first he doesn’t quite understand what he’s smelling- he’s hardly experienced in this area, after all- and wonders if Todd’s taken an abrupt backstep on his mockery of Dirk’s shopping habits and gone and bought himself a scented candle.

But no matter how much he loves a sniff of cinnamon, Dirk’s never encountered a candle capable of eliciting such an immediate and…  _ physical  _ reaction from his body. And he’s owned some bloody amazing candles.

“Todd?” he calls, a little light-headedly- it feels like there’s a lot less blood running towards it than there was before. “Can you smell… something…”

“Dirk…?”

Dirk jumps. Not out of surprise at the voice- he was looking for it, after all- but at the way it sounds. Hoarse, thin and yet somehow heavy, heavier than he’s ever heard it. It does something…  _ strange  _ to him. With that one faint syllable he can feel the hairs on his arms stand on end, a pull in his chest that has nothing to do with the universe and everything to do with  _ that smell  _ tugging him forward like a puppet on a string.

He’s walking towards the voice before he even makes a conscious decision to do so.

As he walks the scent grows stronger, filling his senses, dancing in his lungs. Thick and all-consuming like sweet, ambrosial smoke. But it doesn’t choke him, just fills him, floods him, teases his taste buds and makes him crave more,  _ more.  _ He follows it in a trance, drifting dream-like through the office. The smell, the warmth, the dappled sunlight through the blinds, it all imbues him with a sense of… sweetness. Safety. 

Maybe this  _ is  _ a dream.

That certainly seems to be the only logical explanation for Todd, at any rate.

He’s standing in the hallway, just at the bottom of the stairs down from the loft. He looks like he just woke up from a nap- soft, lightly dishevelled, droopy-eyed and pink-cheeked.  _ Very  _ pink-cheeked, actually. His feet are bare, his jeans- unbelted for comfort- hang tenuously on his hips by the will of the universe alone and seem to be bunching rather oddly at the front and- oh.  _ Oh.  _

Dirk blushes furiously and spins around, turning his back on the sight before it drives him absolutely mad. He has a feeling it’s a little too late. “Sorry!” he squeaks, covering his face with his hands just to be safe. “Um, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to- um, are you going to, going to go and deal with…  _ that?” _

Silence. Odd. Usually Todd would do something a  _ lot  _ more vocal upon being caught in such a compromising state- such as shout, or splutter, or even just huff in embarrassment and stomp off upstairs until his little  _ situation  _ had subsided. Dirk, concerned that maybe this is like that little debacle with the voice-snatching demons a few months back, risks another look at him, keeping his eyes very much above waist-height.

Todd looks… different. Obviously it’s still  _ Todd,  _ but there’s something distinctly peculiar in the way he’s holding himself. He looks unsteady on his feet, gripping the banister as if he needs it to support himself. His face is pink, a blush of such deep, broad proportions that it paints his chest (what Dirk can see of it above the shirt, at any rate) and ears in matching rosy hues, and he’s breathing heavily. Mostly through his nose- no, not just breathing. Sniffing. Searching. Gulping down deep, greedy breaths of something, rather like Dirk was mere moments ago when he smelled that strange…

Oh.

Oh, bloody  _ fuck.  _

And then Todd looks up, peering at Dirk from beneath heavy, slumberous lids and fluttering lashes, and licks his lips.  _ “Dirk.” _

Bloody buggering  _ hell. _

 

* * *

Naturally, Dirk did what any sane and responsible alpha would do upon being confronted with his first heat in the form of his diminutive best friend slash detective partner eyeing him like he was a three-course dinner.

He legged it.

Which seemed like a perfectly sensible idea on paper. But what a lack of attention- and a lack of blood running in the direction of his brain- had failed to do was remind him of the very obvious flaw in his plan.

_ “Shit!”  _ he exclaims, as he barrels into the front door. Which, in turn, barrels into the large and awkwardly placed sofa on the other side which had appeared under mysterious circumstances and has yet to disappear in a similar fashion. Which, of course, is why they’ve been sitting around in the office all day on a Sunday. And why Todd was napping upstairs fully-clothed in the first place. And why Farah was not currently present, nor would she be until the sofa had shifted itself or she’d made alternative arrangements. In a nutshell, the reason he and Todd are in this situation, and the reason they will remain as such for the foreseeable future.

Why is always the bloody  _ sofas?! _

He bangs on the door a few more times with palm and fist, but it doesn't budge more than an inch. Dirk peers despairingly through the thin gap into the stairwell- far,  _ far _ too narrow. Even if he had managed to stick to that ill-fated diet he'd tried one rainy day in January. Worst two and a half hours of his life. But he’d go back in time and do them all over again if they’d give him the magical power and slender build required to slip through this crack like a postcard through a letterbox. 

But, clunky parcel in the sorting office of creation that he is, he's well and truly stranded. Just him, and the door, and that _ smell. _

Which, unless he's very much mistaken, is getting stronger by the second.

Oh,  _ shit. _

He whips round, wide-eyed, and finds Todd standing much closer than he was a moment ago. Very close. Unbelievably close. Bloody hell, that man could be  _ sneaky _ when it suited him- then again, he was barefoot and Dirk had already very much proven himself an unobservant hormonal mess. 

And also a bloody stupid rambling one, because in the time he spends wondering how Todd got so close he gets even closer and pins him against the traitor door with his hands- hot as brands- on his chest.

“ _ Dirk,”  _ he says again, voice hoarse with… well, Dirk's no expert but if he has to label it, the term ‘brain-scrambling, head-spinning, toe-curling lust’ springs to mind. It's not a tone he's had directed at  _ him  _ personally before, but he thinks he's seen enough films to identify it. 

“Um- h-hello, Todd,” Dirk greets him, swallowing thickly as he breathes in a fresh fragrant waft of that intoxicating scent.

And oh, sweet Lord, Todd bloody  _ whimpers. _

“Dirk…” He croaks, like it's the only word he remembers. Like it's the only one that matters.  _ “Dirk,  _ I-”

And then, with no further warning, he lunges. 

Dirk yelps as Todd's hot breath dances across his skin. Todd nuzzles into his neck, kissing it, scenting it, mapping it with his mouth, nose nudging softly but insistently into Dirk's jaw with every pass. The smell is… truly unavoidable at this distance. So close to Todd, his soft hair tickling his nose, his hands all over his body. His  _ neck,  _ pale and perfect, right in front of his eyes. If he put his hand on it, would he find his pulse thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings? If he put his mouth on it, would it taste as good as it smells? If he  _ sank _ his  _ teeth _ into it-

It's that thought that hits him like a cold splash of water to the face. He's back in the room- the sweet-smelling, tongue-tingling, sense-bombarding room- and he has got a very needy omega in heat mauling him and no exit strategy. An  _ unmated _ omega. 

_ That's  _ the tricky bit.

“Dirk-” Todd keeps repeating his name, slipping it between kisses. “P-please, I-I need-”

“Um, yes, see, this is  _ a lot  _ for a first date and, ah-” it's very hard to form a coherent argument with those lips everywhere. “I, uh, think perhaps, given that you're hardly thinking straight at the moment that we should just- just…  _ shit _ , what should we do, um…”

And then Todd's lips are on Dirk's, tongue plundering his mouth and oh  _ God _ he tastes as good as he smells and Dirk is  _ rapidly  _ losing his conviction, here. He whimpers, and Todd makes a sound to match and oh God oh God what was Dirk trying to say again?!

Dirk grabs his shoulders, pushes him back, and blurts the first thing that pops to mind- the first thing that pops to any Englishman’s mind when faced with an overwhelming situation. “ _ Tea.  _ I fancy tea, do you fancy tea? Of course you fancy tea, let me just pop the kettle on and we'll-”

Todd, however, doesn't seem to be into the idea. He claws ineffectually at Dirk's hands, but not hard enough to budge them- either he's too weak from the sensory onslaught, or for once in his bloody life his biological ‘don't fight the alpha’ drive is in effect. Oh God, Dirk certainly hopes that's not it- Todd would be  _ furious.  _ “Need you,” he whimpers, sweaty hands scrambling for purchase. “Please…”

Fuck.  _ Fuck. _

Dirk gulps, trying  _ very _ hard not to look at Todd too directly- he's never been what you might call a stereotypical alpha but if he looks a desperate omega in the eye when he's  _ literally _ begging to be taken care of… well, he's not sure he's strong enough to deal with that. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I'm sorry, T-todd, but- I can't.  _ We  _ can't, you'll- you'll regret it. When it's over.”

Todd’s shaking his head sluggishly, as if it's difficult to process the words. “N-no, I…”

“Trust me, Todd, you will,” Dirk grimaces, rubbing his shoulders soothingly. A motion he  _ immediately _ regrets as it only seems to wind Todd up further. God, he really has  _ no _ idea what he's doing. And if Todd were in any fit state to see that he'd agree. “I-I can't give you what you want. I won't. I'm sorry.”

To his surprise, that actually seems to get through to Todd. He backs away, just slightly, hands slipping from Dirk's. Dirk breathes a long, heavy sigh of relief, sagging boneless against the door, closing his eyes a second because he can still  _ feel _ Todd, feel the space he occupies in front of him, feel him like he's the only thing in the room that matters. He's surrounding him, drowning him. Smothering him in the most delightful,  _ torturous  _ way possible.

His relief fades when he feels something else. A change in the air, a sharp, bitter tang amidst the heavenly aroma. It's a smell he's grown rather familiar with over the years, and he's no better at stomaching it for the practice. Pain, confusion.

Tears.

He looks at Todd in alarm. He seems even smaller than usual- head bowed, shoulders drawn up. His hands clench in trembling fists at his sides, he keeps his eyes down with a resigned submissiveness that fits him all _ wrong.  _ He looks broken, defeated.

“You…” he rasps, blinking back tears. “Don't… want me…”

Bugger.

“No!” Dirk exclaims, wincing as Todd flinches back as if struck a physical blow. “I mean yes, I mean- argh! This, this is  _ not _ how I imagined us having this conversation- mainly because I never imagined us  _ having _ this conversation, but…”

He shifts from foot to foot. He doesn't know where to put his hands. The sun is shining. The kettle isn't on. Todd is crying. Todd, his best friend, his favourite person, is crying. Todd, the heat-crazed, vulnerable, unmated omega is crying and he thinks Dirk doesn't even  _ care. _

There's a secret Dirk's been holding onto, wrapped up nice and tightly in a box where it can't hurt anyone. He'd been hoping- perhaps naively- that he could keep it under lock and key forever. Or that when it came out it would do so at the right time, right place. Something he'd look back on fondly, something he-  _ they _ \- wouldn't regret. 

But beggars can't be choosers- and Todd Brotzman’s pain makes a beggar of him like nothing else on earth.

“I do want you,” he breathes, truth tripping off his tongue smoothly as silk. “I do, Todd, I-I've wanted you for so long. Every day I look at you and- and I want you. Like I've never wanted anyone before and it's…  _ baffling  _ and ridiculous and frankly quite dangerous but I would do anything for you. Anything. Anything, I just… I want you to be safe, and happy and…”

_ And mine. _

“I want you,” he murmurs, catching Todd's hand and holding it to his chest. “I want you…”

Todd whines, eyes fluttering closed, rocking up on his heels in search of a kiss. 

And Dirk, with a heavy hand and a heavier heart, denies him.

“But not like this,” he says, whisper-soft, nuzzling Todd's hair apologetically. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…”

Todd keeps pawing at him, throwing himself into him, rubbing himself against every inch of his body he can reach with renewed desperation. He doesn't understand- can't understand when the heat’s rendered him a volatile cocktail of lust and confusion. He still isn't used to dealing with them, wasn't prepared for it, has nothing to focus on but Dirk, nothing to distract him or alleviate the stress. Just his hormones and frustration, and the maddening smell of an alpha who won't give him what he wants. 

Dirk feels every sob and whimper like a stab in the heart, stomach twisting itself in knots. The smell of an omega in heat and the sound of one in pain carve ruthlessly into him, a two-pronged attack that has tears springing to his eyes within moments. He can't sort out where his desire ends and his guilt begins, he's riled up in all the right and wrong ways and good god his body is a  _ war zone.  _

But it's nothing on whatever’s going on in Todd's body right now, so perhaps he ought to count his blessings. 

“Todd,” he whispers, voice hoarse as he takes Todd's wrists carefully in his hands. “Todd, I think we'd better sit down. Just- y-yes, that's right, just follow me. Let's get you comfy or, um… comfier.”

It takes some wrangling to get Todd sitting on the couch- and even more to get him to sit with both legs on it, rather than straddling Dirk's thigh and  _ grinding.  _

They end up in some kind of strange half-embrace anyway, given that Dirk has to hold Todd still lest he fidget himself to injury. But he finds a position that works- one hand in his hair, petting it soothingly, one on the back of his neck. As soon as he presses his palm down there he feels Todd go limp with a half frustrated, half relieved whimper. 

Dirk immediately feels shame flooding him- he swore he would never do this. Never deliberately go for Todd's weak spots, those omegan control mechanisms he hates with every fibre of his being. He wasn't going to be that alpha- he never  _ wants _ to be  _ that alpha.  _ He doesn't want to control Todd, claim him, call him  _ his _ in that way that Todd would despise, in that way that he was never  _ meant _ to belong to another human. 

...Well, admittedly he does want  _ some  _ of that, but he feels bad about it! 

“Dirk,” Todd whines thrashing weakly under his hands.  _ “Please…” _

“I'm sorry,” says Dirk, reluctantly pressing down on his neck until he quietens down again. “I'm  _ so sorry,  _ I-I’m sorry I have to do this, and I'm sorry I can't help you- I want to, I, I  _ really  _ bloody want to, but- but not like this. You'd say yes to anything, I know you would, and I- I won't take advantage of you like that. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry…”

He babbles softly in Todd's ear until the sun begins to set. Until Todd's unsettled writhing and frustrated whimpering taper off into silence. Until he slips quietly into hot, fitful sleep beneath Dirk's hands, brows scrunched up even in rest.

Dirk, keeping one hand cautiously on his neck, reaches down to gently smooth them flat, knowing it's all he can do. Knowing it's  _ the best _ he can do.

Some bloody alpha he is…

“Sleep well, Todd,” he whispers, pressing an apologetic kiss to his sweat-beaded forehead. “Sorry you're stuck with me…”

Todd doesn't answer.

Dirk sighs, settles in, and gazes mournfully at the cold, empty kettle on the counter.

He could _ really  _ go for that cuppa, now.

 

* * *

When Todd dozed off on a pile of Dirk's spare jackets in the agency loft, it was to a gentle summer breeze through the skylight and the puzzle of the hallway couch turning over lazily in his head- like a Rubik’s cube that he wasn't all that fussed about solving, but it gave him something to do with his hands. 

He wakes up to fire in his blood.

It simmers and bubbles, just the wrong side of painful and he whimpers, rolling over, burying his face in the sweet-smelling fabric all around him. It actually seems to help, the smell appeasing something raw and desperate inside, and he gulps it down greedily. He thinks there's scents he should be able to name in there- scents he  _ has  _ named, that are familiar to him, especially in this particular combination. 

But right now, only one word fights its way past the fog in his mind:  _ alpha. _

“Todd?”

That voice. Todd shivers all over, rubbing his neck- he knows that voice. He  _ likes _ that voice. He wants that voice- he wants the alpha it belongs to. 

Dirk.

He'd be proud of himself for remembering another word, if he had any concept of pride right now.

He staggers to his feet, reluctantly abandoning the fragrant jacket pile to follow the much, much  _ stronger  _ smell coming from downstairs. He can hear the heartbeat beneath it- the thick, vibrant pulse of life, of warmth and safety and  _ alpha.  _ He’s drawn to it helplessly. Like a moth to a flame, his mind might supply if it was in any fit state to salvage up metaphors.

When he descends the stairs and meets Dirk’s eyes, it’s like a calming balm on his electrified skin.

And when Dirk’s eyes widen, arousal spiking his aroma, it’s like a bolt of lighting to his blood.

He begins to lose track after that. Everything is just…  _ him.  _ His scent, his voice, creeping under Todd’s skin and drawing him in, promising warmth and safety and  _ satisfaction,  _ promising a stop to the pain and confusion. He follows him as if in a trance, trying to get his hands on him, his mouth, trying to  _ feel  _ him, breathe him, absorb him right into himself so maybe this horrible, aching emptiness will  _ stop. _

But no matter how hard he tries, how much he paws and grabs and chases, it’s never close enough. 

There are hands on him, but not where they need to be- not helping, just hindering, keeping him pinned back, always at arm’s length. He clings to Dirk's neck as long as possible, running his nose along the line of it and greedily inhaling every drop of alpha musk he can find. Briefly he finds lips, almost crying at the relief of the taste of Dirk on his tongue, but it doesn't last long before he's pushed back. The smell, the  _ heat,  _ it’s so  _ close  _ and yet…

He loses track of how much he whines, begs, whimpers, pleading with his eyes and his body, crying out for something,  _ anything. _

Dirk's saying something. He's saying a lot of things- he always does. Todd tries to focus, past the heat and the pain and the  _ want  _ scorching through his veins. Tries to focus on what he's saying and not just the maddening cadences of his wrecked voice. He focuses in enough to catch half an argument, and shakes his head blearily. “N-no, I…”

Dirk touches his shoulders, coos something soothing at him and  _ God,  _ Todd could just  _ devour  _ him- the touch sends shock waves of sensation up his neck, a fresh wave of toe-curling lust unfurling in his gut. 

But some of the words start to poke through. And the word that rings loudest of all is the soft, apologetic  _ can't.  _ At least, it sounds soft, but it feels like a brick wall.

And the following  _ won't  _ feels like being submerged in ice water.

Todd blinks, releases Dirk's jacket, steps away. Won't. Can't, won't. Dirk won't help him. Won't have him. Not even when he's in heat, when he's  _ throwing  _ himself at him. When he's at his most appealing, his most willing, his most  _ desperate.  _ Not even when he's practically on his knees, begging.

Dirk doesn't want him.

Some  _ fucking  _ omega, he is…

His eyes are stinging, his throat feels tight. His body is on fire and he's so  _ close  _ to Dirk, to his warmth and musk and safety, so close to the promise of relief and yet so fucking far because he's so fundamentally repulsive and such a fucking failure as an omega that he can't even rely on his stupid biology to attract the only alpha he'd even  _ want  _ and- “You…” it's hard to get the words out past the lump in his throat, but he has to- he has to be sure, he has to- “Don't… want me…”

“No!”

He understands  _ that _ word, alright.

Todd flinches back, feeling the impact of it like a slap to the face. And then Dirk is talking again, rambling, voice softer but Todd's still reeling, shrinking away in shame and fear as the pain kicks up a notch, flames fanned by desperation and barely tempered by the balm of Dirk's voice as he talks, so softly, so soothingly, being so kind even though he doesn't want him, even though the thought of having Todd- even if it's just to help him- makes him sick.

Of  _ course _ he doesn't want him. He's too good for him. Too sweet, too gentle. To think he'd want to go anywhere  _ near  _ Todd- let alone knot him,  _ claim  _ him, fill him up and make him his- was stupid. Just Todd's stupid, heat-crazy brain jumping to outlandish conclusions in search of comfort and relief.

And then Dirk catches his hand, holding it to his chest, and he feels the strong, frantic thumping of the alpha’s heart beneath his palm. 

“I want you,” Dirk breathes, a deafening whisper. “I want you.”

_ God. _

Todd whines, rocks up, desperately seeking his lips, wanting to kiss those beautiful words right out of his mouth. Everything will be alright if he can just kiss him- if he can just show him what he can do, if he can  _ just- _

But there’s the hands again. Pushing him back. He’s dimly aware, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he could fight them off. That he probably  _ would,  _ at any other time, in any other place. But he feels them, heavy and hard like silk wrapped round steel, his mouth and nose full of the hard smell of alpha and he  _ can’t,  _ he doesn’t  _ want  _ to, because he can be good. For Dirk, for his alpha, he won’t fight, he can be good, he can be a good omega, he can-

Except Dirk isn’t giving him  _ anything.  _ He says he wants him but he’s holding him back, he’s whispering soft, sweet things in his ear but he’s always out of reach. He’s telling him what he wants but he’s just. Not. Taking it.

And now Todd wants to cry again for an entirely different reason.

So he fights, just a bit. Not too much, not against his alpha, but… he has to  _ try.  _ Maybe this is a test? Does Dirk  _ want  _ him to fight, to prove how much he wants this? Or does he want him to give up, prove he can show restraint, prove he can be good? Would he have him, then? What does he  _ want?  _ What can Todd possibly  _ do?! _

And now Dirk’s moving him, manhandling him, sitting him down on the couch- not pushing, not pinning, just lightly pressing- and  _ still  _ he doesn’t take what Todd’s offering. Not even when Todd all but climbs in his goddamn lap. When Dirk finally gets his arms around him it’s to hold him still, wrapping him in his maddening scent and yet not giving him an inch of leeway to chase it.

And then his hand pins his neck, and Todd submits entirely.

He whimpers, trapped beneath the weight of Dirk’s firm, hot fingers at his most sensitive spot, involuntarily melting under the pressure. He feels relief flooding him at the contact, the decisiveness of the gesture, but still he craves  _ more,  _ his entire body aching for it. For heat, for friction, for fullness, all so close within reach it burns to know he can’t have them. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t…

Dirk’s hand tightens on his neck. 

No. Okay, okay, this… this is what Dirk wants.

Todd doesn’t understand it. Dirk- Dirk  _ wants  _ him, he said so himself, but not… not now? Not…  _ ugh,  _ he doesn’t  _ know,  _ he just… he knows he’s not getting anything, which… which  _ sucks.  _ And fucking  _ hurts,  _ because he’s on fire and his nerves are shot and if Dirk would just flip him over, just  _ take him  _ it would be over in minutes but he’s not going to. For some reason that Todd just can’t fucking figure out right now.

But if this is what his alp-  _ the  _ alph- if this is what  _ Dirk  _ wants, there must be a  _ reason.  _ Right?

So Todd won’t fight. Okay. No more fighting. He’ll just… he’ll take what he can get. Even if it’s just this, just Dirk’s hands on him, pinning him down and  _ not  _ the way he wants him to. Just his proximity and heat, his  _ scent.  _ If all he can have is scraps then he’ll take it. He’ll take anything. He can live on this. He  _ will  _ live on this. Forever, if he has to.

So Todd takes deep, greedy breaths through his nose, drowning himself in Dirk in the only way he can, and lets the alpha’s gentle hand in his hair soothe him into a fitful, uneasy sleep as his blood burns in his veins.

This is enough.

It’s  _ has  _ to be enough...

 

* * *

It occurs to Dirk, possibly a bit later than it should, that he should probably call Farah and ask what the bloody hell to do. She has more experience with omegas than him, after all- and Todd-specific experience to boot.

The fact that his phone lies just out of reach on the coffee table puts a bit of a crimp in his plans.

Still, he's nothing if not determined. And considering how much further out of reach the kettle is, it doesn’t seem all that unachievable in the grand scheme of things. It's more achievable than a nice cup of tea, at any rate.

It takes some very careful jostling of the sleeping omega (which is still distractingly adorable, even under less than ideal circumstances), and some creativity involving whatever resources he can scrounge from between the sofa cushions. But seven chopsticks, a plastic spade and rather a lot of cellotape later he's got a very serviceable- albeit wobbly- phone scooping device in hand. 

He's just getting ready to put it to the test, trying to ignore the way it sways without even a breeze to make it do so, when he hears a soft  _ fwiiiiip  _ beside him. He turns to look at his pile of discarded sofa treasure, and finds that one of the many lost phone chargers is missing. In its place lies a proper, sturdy-looking reacher-grabber, complete with rubber-tipped claws and a trigger.

“Oh,” Dirk mumbles, picking it- or rather,  _ her _ \- up. “So  _ that's  _ where you've been hiding. Why couldn't you have done this  _ before _ I went to all that trouble?”

Mona doesn't answer verbally, but she does snap her rubber claws a couple of times. Dirk decides to take it as an apology.

He sighs, petting Todd's neck as he squirms in his sleep. Dirk's scared to let it go, seeing as it's the only reason he got the omega down it the first place. “Nevermind, it's not your fault. I just need to talk to  _ someone _ who knows what they're doing.” Because god knows it isn't him.

With Mona’s help, it's a cinch to get his phone in hand. He almost sobs with relief when he realises it's still at seventy percent battery- if there was  _ ever _ a day to remember to charge it! He almost drops it in his excitement, and it's a good job he has Farah on speed dial two (right below Todd, right above his favourite pizza place and 911) because he's far too much of a mess to navigate the contacts.

“Dirk?” she answers on the third ring, voice raised over the hubbub in the background. Her investigation must have taken her somewhere busy. “This isn't a great time, can I call you-”

“Todd's in heat,” he blurts. No time to beat about the bush, he has to keep her on the line or he might actually cry.

Silence meets his declaration- and given how often that means someone's been clubbed unconscious or chloroformed in their line of work, Dirk starts to worry.

But after a moment the background noise starts to recede, further muffled by the  _ click  _ of a closing door, and Farah's voice says, seriously: “Tell me everything.”

So Dirk fills her in as best he can- though he does give abridged accounts of bits and pieces, such as the full extent of his lovestruck confession. And the grinding. She doesn't need to know about all of that, and he can spare Todd a little humiliation. He's very aware that he's probably talking too fast, but Farah doesn't interrupt so she must be taking it on board.

When he's finished, he can hear her brain ticking through checklists. “What does he smell like?”

_ Not  _ the question he was expecting. A little personal, in his opinion, but she's the expert. “Um… nice?”

“Does he smell like he's having an attack?”

“An atta- you mean, a  _ pararibulitis  _ attack?! No! No, not, I mean, I'm not sure what one of those smells like-”

“You've been around him when he's had them, right?”

“Well, yes-”

“Then trust me, you'll know. Okay, okay no attacks, that's good.”

Dirk can feel the blood draining from his face at an alarming rate. “Yes, Farah, sorry, I may need some clarification, there- are you telling me sometimes he gets attacks  _ during _ -?”

“Yeah, his heats can trigger them,” she says grimly. “Anything can, but a heat attack is  _ not _ pretty- I didn't even know it was happening first couple of times, and I don't think he could figure it out either.”

The thought of Todd, just coming to grips with heats after prolonged suppression, crying out about burning up, seeing the flames, wondering if he was actually on fire or just going mad from the cravings. Begging Farah to help, to stop the fire, and her not understanding that he means it in a  _ horribly  _ literal sense…

“Dirk?  _ Dirk. _ ”

Dirk grunts in acknowledgment- it comes out a little squeakier than intended- and loosens his white-knuckled grip on the phone. 

“Keep it together, Dirk. He needs you.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” he rasps, collecting himself and rubbing Todd's neck. It's more to soothe himself than the omega, but neither Todd nor Farah need to know that. “So what do I do?”

“If he wakes up and has an attack you'll need to give him his meds- you've got some nearby, right?”

“I always have some on me,” he says, relieved. At least he's prepared for  _ something. _

“Always?” She sounds surprised. Fair enough, he supposes, after all he's not the most organised fellow. 

Still, he takes token offence to it. “Of course I do! It's Todd!”

She goes very quiet for a moment, and Dirk has another flicker of concern about foul play being involved. But after a few seconds he hears her grumble a very soft “ _ Idiots”  _ to herself. Confusing, but ultimately comforting. “Okay. Yeah, good, keep an eye on him. You think he's having an attack, get him to take a couple. He won't want to, but you have to make him.”

Dirk nods, patting at his jacket pocket to double check. He finds his spare pill bottle there, rattling reassuringly, just where he put it this morning. He always takes care to transfer it when he changes jackets. “Okay. Okay, that's fine, I can do that, but what about his…” he blushes, voice dropping. “ _ Other  _ situation?”

She sighs, and his stomach sinks. “I don't know. Just, just try and keep him comfortable. Don't let him do anything he'll regret.”

“That's it?” Dirk squeaks, feeling the panic start to rise again. 

“Yeah. And if he wakes up try and get him to drink water and eat something- something sweet will go down better, try and give him some fruit, he'll need the vitamins.”

“But… that won't stop this, will it.”

“No,” she says, sounding just as upset with her inability to help as he is.

Dirk sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is this… is this how you coped? Those two months, when it was just the two of you- is this really the best you could do?”

“For a while,” she murmurs, sighing heavily herself. “But he was just coming off his suppressants. For a while they were always there, every few days, and they were so  _ painful,  _ so eventually I… I started helping him.”

He frowns. “Well, yes, that's why I-”

“No, Dirk, I mean I- I started  _ helping  _ him,” she says, voice thick with meaning.

It takes a while for that meaning to get through. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

_ “Oh.”  _ He looks down at Todd, the omega’s brows furrowed beneath his sweat-beaded forehead, and feels some horrible ugly hybrid of guilt and jealousy twist in his gut. “Oh,  _ shit.  _ Was I supposed to, I mean…  _ should  _ I have-?”

“No,” says Farah quickly, decisively. “No, Dirk. When it happened with us, I- we talked it over. Between heats, he- he knew what I was gonna do before I did it. You guys still need to have that talk, when he's got a clear head.”

“Yes, yes I- that's what I thought. He just-” Dirk swallows round the lump in his throat. “God, Farah, to  _ listen _ to him…”

“I know,” she says, a lot softer. “I know. It's hard. But you did the right thing, Dirk. He'll thank you for it. Seriously.”

He exhales, a weight he hadn't known he'd been carrying lifting from his shoulders. “Yes. Yes, good, I… good.”

Todd snuffles against his side, whining slightly in his sleep. Dirk clicks the phone onto loudspeaker and puts it down so he can reach over and pet his hair with his free hand until the omega settles again. “So… what do I do now?”

“Let him sleep, as long as possible,” says Farah, the background noise creeping back as she opens whatever door she'd shut herself behind. “I'm gonna try and figure out this couch thing as quickly as I can, so I can come back and help you. Fruit, water, meds, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Good. And his heats are still super irregular, so maybe you'll get lucky and he'll be back to normal when he wakes up.”

“And if I get unlucky?”

He can hear the grim set of her jaw in her voice. “Then you've got a long five days ahead.”

“Five  _ days?!” _

“Gotta go,” she says, voice blending into the hubbub. “Hang in there!”

“Farah- Farah,  _ five days?!” _

But he's talking to dead air.

He stares at the phone, horror-struck, before letting his gaze wander to Todd. Even in sleep he isn't at peace, his slumber punctuated by whimpers and sniffles, his sweaty hands clenched fiercely in Dirk's shirt, pulling him as close as he can and still scrambling for more.

Dirk thumbs off the ‘call ended’ screen numbly, and returns to stroking Todd's hair, willing him to stay asleep, to just sleep through this whole miserable situation, to come back to him whole and lucid so they can talk about what to do next time this problem rears its ugly head.

Hm. Now  _ there's  _ a conversation that can only end well.

He eyes Mona and the rejected phone-scooper, gauges the distance to the kitchen. 

Right now he needs a cup of tea in his hands like he needs air in his lungs.

 

* * *

Waking up after a heat is, in Todd's experience, not too unlike waking up with a bad hangover. The intense headache, photosensitivity, dry mouth and grumbling stomach. The overwhelming feeling of disappointment, emptiness and self - loathing. All things he wouldn't have to deal with if he spent his heats with an alpha- and all things he deals with anyway out of principle and petty spite.

But unlike the morning after six shots of tequila, it doesn't come with the perk of memory loss.

As Todd blinks his eyes open to the weak morning sunlight and a hand on his neck, familiar smell filling his nostrils, a whole bunch of embarrassing memories involving the owner come rushing back. 

He sits up so violently he sends Dirk's hand flying up and into the startled alpha’s face.

“ _ Ow!” _

_ Shit.  _ “Sorry!” Todd yelps, voice hoarse from sleep and dehydration as he reaches out, hands hovering awkwardly over Dirk's cheek. 

“No, no, it's- it's alright,” Dirk waves him off, smiling bravely as he cups his reddening jaw. “My fault. Um. Sleep well?”

Todd feels himself going red, too, and he can't blame it on burst capillaries.“Uh. Yeah, I guess. How long was I..?”

“You conked out about four, soooooo-” Dirk frowned, attempting mental calculations. “...A while?”

Helpful. Serves him right for asking  _ Dirk _ about the time. He sighs and roots round in his pocket for his phone, cringing away from the light of the screen- and even more from the time and date displayed on it. “ _ Shit.  _ It's eight in the morning.” Great. So he threw himself at Dirk and then pinned him down and drooled on him for sixteen hours. Amazing.

“Oh,” says Dirk, bemused. “So  _ this  _ is what eight in the morning looks like… I always wondered.”

“But not enough to wake up earlier, huh?” Todd teases him, a little of the tension draining. At least he doesn't seem mad, or super uncomfortable.  At least they can still mess around after…  _ that. _

Dirk snorts derisively. “I'm a detective, Todd, not a scientist. I'll leave those sorts of discoveries to the little men with clipboards. Tea?”

Todd blinks at the ornate rolling tea trolley, complete with steaming pot and delicate bone China cups, by his side. He hadn't noticed that right away. He'd been a little caught up in debilitating embarrassment. “Uh…” he looks at Dirk, points at the trolley and mouths: “Mona?”

Dirk nods, petting the teapot fondly. “Miss Wilder is a truly indispensable employee. Worth her weight in gold- although admittedly her weight is rather inconsistent. What can I get you? I have some lovely raspberry and vanilla rooibos brewing-”

“Coffee,” Todd groans, rubbing his temples. “So much coffee.”

Dirk tut-tuts disapprovingly. “Mona? Any chance of some disgusting bean juice for this tasteless heathen?”

Mona  _ fwiiiiip _ s merrily, and a small silver coffee pot materialises beside the tea set. Dirk sets about pouring Todd a cup, wrinkling his nose at the aroma. He’s heaping milk and sugar into it before Todd can protest. “Oh, don’t make a fuss,” he cuts him off prematurely, stirring the stuff in. “I know you just pretend to like it black. After the night you’ve had, I think you deserve to drop the pretense for a cup.” He holds out the mug, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Any other time, Todd would happily take that challenge.

He entirely blames the residual hormones for the way he takes the cup with a mumbled ‘thank you’ and says no more about it. 

Dirk smiles, thanking the coffee pot sincerely as he pours his own tea. He takes a sip about the same time Todd does, humming in satisfaction as Todd fights to keep himself from making a similar sound. He's just about done making awkward sounds around Dirk for the rest of his life. He's pretty much decided he's gonna down the entire cup in silence when an uncomfortable thought occurs to him. “Are we…  _ drinking  _ Mona?”

They share a glance. Dirk wrinkles his nose. “Possibly.”

“Oh.”

“Best not to think about it.”

“Yeah.”

Drinking in silence it is.

Which Todd’s pretty down for, honestly, until Dirk ruins it.

“So, ah,” he begins, lightness in his voice belying the loaded question Todd knows is coming. “You’re feeling better, I take it?”

Todd hides his face behind his cup, nodding. 

“Good. That’s good. I, ah, I had a chat to Farah about it-”

Todd groaned.

“And, well, she seemed to think you could have been… under the weather a lot longer, so. I’m glad it was short-lived. Especially as she couldn’t be present to-” he makes a motion with his hands that’s simultaneously nonsensical and lewd- “ _ help.” _

If the couch could just swallow him up, that would be great. “So, uh. She told you?”

“Yes. Yes, she told me about your…  _ arrangement.” _

Todd winces. “God, please don’t. That just makes it sound sleazier, somehow.”

“I didn’t mean to imply- um, that is, I’m not trying to shame either of you for-” Dirk is, literally and figuratively, flailing. “Um, it’s, it’s a perfectly natural process and really very good of her to offer and I’ve been entirely assured there was informed consent all around and ah-”

“Just… stop talking.”

“Yes. Superb idea.”

Todd snorts, inhaling the spicy sweet aroma of his coffee. He has minutes at most before Dirk starts babbling again, the guy can’t keep a lid on it. May as well beat him to it. “Look, what Farah and I used to do, it- it was convenient, okay? We were on the run, I had no meds, it was so new and I couldn’t even nest and it just happened. She helped me out, I thanked her, and that’s. That’s it.” He shrugs, ducking his head. “I’m more used to it now. I can handle it alone.”

Dirk doesn’t answer immediately, turning Todd’s words over, and Todd takes a blissfully silent sip of his coffee.

“She helped you more than I did.”

And nearly chokes on it. He splutters, covering his mouth with his hand as he boggles at Dirk, who’s looking- who’s looking fucking  _ guilty  _ for some reason. “What?”

“She- she talked to you, in advance, and made plans and helped you through it, and I-” he shrugs, a quick, helpless twitch of his shoulders. “I just never even thought about it.”

Todd thinks about going on a rant at Dirk about how that was by design and he likes it  _ much  _ better when the alphas in his life aren’t hyper aware of his heat cycles, but he doesn’t think that’s gonna help matters. Dirk looks guilty and downtrodden but like he’s trying awful hard not to look that way, and it’s hard to look at. “Dirk, I’m not…  _ mad  _ at you.”

Dirk gives him a  _ look.  _ A ‘ _ really?’  _ look which, incidentally, is exactly the kind of look that triggers Todd’s defensive reflexes.

“What?” he demands, glowering at the alpha, daring him to interrupt. “You think I expected you to, what, come at me in the office with some kind of contract and a choice of safe words? Just ‘cause I’m an omega? I don’t  _ need  _ your help, Dirk. I got through life this far on my own, I don’t need to be fucking coddled by goddamn sappy alphas and their guilt complexes. The Farah thing was under extenuating circumstances, okay, and we’ve talked it through since and agreed what’s past is past, and I don’t need you coming in here with your fucking giant blue eyes and cute little self-sacrificing act ready to sweep me up like some fucking white knight and take one for the team by fucking my brains out once a month so if that’s all this is about you can just go and fu-”

“Todd,  _ breathe. _ ”

Todd breathes. But  _ not  _ because Dirk told him to.

Dirk stares at him, all awe and confusion and, yeah, a little bit of amusement. Because he’s a shit. “Todd, I… Um, that is to say… how much do you remember? From yesterday?”

_ Too much. _ “Enough.”

“Do you remember… what I said to you?”

Todd thinks about it, brows furrowing. Mostly he just remembers his own feelings about what was said. Remembers the neediness and the self-loathing and the desperation he wants to retroactively kick himself and his hormonal alter ego in the nuts for. But he remembers the bits that sunk in the most, when all he could focus on were the monosyllabic answers, and inwardly cringes at his reactions to them. And if he concentrates, frames the shape of Dirk’s lips and the sound of his voice in his mind, he can start to piece together the rest. He remembers Dirk babbling nervously about tea, remembers him trying to gently explain to him why they couldn’t do this. Why he’d regret it if they did. Todd immediately feels bad for going off on him- a lot of alphas wouldn’t have even thought about his feelings in that situation. It’s a depressingly low bar for Dirk to meet, but meet it he did, and he did his best. Todd’s just figuring out how to recover from his outburst and offer Dirk a sincere thank you without actually admitting he overreacted when another bit of missed dialogue floats to the surface.

_ “I do want you.” _

He freezes as a whole slew of words he was too out of it to really process yesterday floods back to him. He can hear them vividly, he can see Dirk’s face, eyes wide and voice low in heartbroken sincerity as he spills them like water through a broken dam. Can feel his racing heartbeat under his hand as it trips, chasing the confession into the open air. 

Did- did Dirk just-?

He looks up to him, wild-eyed, and finds his answer in Dirk’s carefully averted gaze and anxious fidgeting.

Holy  _ shit. _

He should say something. Someone’s gotta say something.

Except all he can do is stare and now Dirk’s looking more terrified by the second.

Fuck. 

_ Fucking  _ say something.

“...Oh.”

_ Yeah. Real smooth. _

But Dirk nods in sage agreement, fingers tapping restlessly on his knees. “Indeed.”

Silence falls again, save for the slight whistle of the teapot. Teapots don’t whistle, of course, but Mona seems to think they should.

Dirk must pluck up some courage from somewhere, because a moment later he clears his throat and says, cautiously: “See, ah. Obviously I would hate to see any omega in pain, but… I think it’s fair to say it was considerably worse with you.” He’s building up speed, words stumbling over one another in their haste to get out before he loses his nerve. “And, and if you’re amenable to it, I would be happy to make arrangements for future incidents. More than happy. Ecstatic, even. Given that seeing you in pain is just about the worst thing I can think of, and that even before I became familiar with you in that, ah, condition, I had- have been- have previously, um. Thought about it. Rather extensively. And if you were at all interested in that sort of thing, with me- just for heats, if you like, or um, beyond- then I would be- that is to say, I, ah. I would certainly  _ not  _ be.. ‘Taking one for the team’. In fact, part of why I’ve never suggested anything of the sort before is I know you’re not interested in pursuing anything so, what’s the word you use-  _ mainstream?  _ Conventional? Antiquated? _ \-  _ as a relationship with an alpha, sexual or otherwise, and given how much I wanted it myself I feared my motivations were entirely too selfish to appeal to you and I had no desire to make you uncomfortable or, you know, make you hate me and so I just- didn’t.”

“Dirk.”

The babbling alpha looks at him, eyes wide as saucers.

_ “Breathe.” _

Dirk inhales sharply, clamping his hands over his mouth as if he can take back the word vomit and lock it in. But it’s out there now, dangling in the air and there must be too much of it to process properly because Todd is drawing some…  _ surprising  _ conclusions from it.

“Dirk, are you…” fuck. He doesn’t know how to approach this. He’s never had  _ this  _ much trouble with the ‘do you like me’ talk, before. Maybe it’s just the first time he’s been truly invested in the outcome. “... _ interested  _ in me?”

_ And the most awkward question award goes to… _

But Dirk just stares at him, seemingly not at all put off, and nods slowly.

“As in, like-  _ interested,  _ interested?”

Dirk looks a little more confused, but nods anyway.

“...In  _ me?” _

The hands drop from Dirk’s mouth, and he cocks his head. “Who else are we talking about?”

Shit. He’s being serious.

For a moment it’s like they can’t do anything except stare at each other, so completely and totally out of their depth it defies words.

And then Todd’s laughing and he can’t stop himself.

Dirk starts back, staring at Todd like he’s lost his mind. Fair, to be honest. “Um… Todd? Did I say something funny?”

Todd doesn’t even know how to  _ begin.  _ He’s been driving himself crazy for months over this stupid  _ idiot,  _ thinking he could never have him, that he wouldn’t be interested, that he wouldn’t deserve it even if he was and now here he is, admitting he’s been doing the exact same thing. All this time they’ve been thrown together, working,  _ living _ in the same space, sharing everything and still neither of them  _ knew.  _

God, they are so. Fucking.  _ Dumb. _

Especially Dirk, who’s looking at him with hurt like Todd’s laughing at his expense alone. “Alright, if it’s such a ridiculous prospect you don’t need to-”

“Oh, just-  _ shut  _ up,” Todd gasps, setting down his coffee.

“Well, there’s really no need to be ru- _ mmph!” _

He doesn’t get any further before Todd pounces, capturing him in a frantic, breathless kiss. 

He thinks he hears Dirk breathe a soft, starstruck  _ “Oh,”  _ against his lips before he melts into it.

Todd clambers into Dirk’s lap, straddling him and grinding down needily and he doesn’t even  _ care  _ because Jesus, they’ve  _ both wanted this  _ all along and he’s done fucking tiptoeing around it like some poor little repressed damsel waiting to be courted, god damn it, they’re both rational consenting adults who want this and like  _ hell  _ Todd’s gonna waste another second especially when Dirk tastes just as good as he smells and his hands are everywhere, pawing him closer, cupped warmly, possessively around his face, his neck, his lower back, his-

“Shit, shit, okay, wait, no, stop,” Todd grumbles, pushing himself back with his hands on Dirk’s chest. “I’m sorry, I- I can’t.”

Dirk blinks up at him, hair a mess- did Todd do that?- and lips kissed pink and inviting. “Um. Is everything-?”

“Yeah, it’s just, uh-” Todd shakes his head, trying to clear it. As expected, it has little effect. “Sometimes, when I’ve just had a heat I, uh. It takes a little while to wear off completely. I think I’m still kinda… off-balance. Sorry.”

Dirk immediately sobers, paling as he squirms beneath Todd, trying to put some meagre distance between them. “Oh! Oh, god, Todd, I’m so-!”

“No, no, don’t! You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m- I’m  _ here,  _ I’m just kinda… heightened. I, I don’t think we should do this.”

Dirk nods, understanding, and though he looks a lot less freaked out he doesn’t look any happier. “Oh. Okay. Yes, sorry, I- sorry.”

Todd frowns, trying to meet his eyes, but he keeps ducking his head. “No, Dirk, you  _ literally  _ did nothing wrong, I just- we can’t do this right now. That’s all.”

_ That  _ gets his attention. Dirk looks up hopefully, cheeks pink. “So, um, by  _ right now,  _ you mean…?”

Oh.  _ Jesus,  _ they are just… the worst. At this fucking communication thing. Todd laughs breathlessly, shaking his head and sliding his hands up to squeeze softly at the base of Dirk’s neck. “I mean I’d like to pick this up again later, yeah. When I’m a little more… me. If this is a thing we’re doing, I don’t…” he breathes in roughly, smoothing his thumbs over the line of Dirk’s throat and not meeting his eyes. “I don’t want this to be how our first time goes.”

Implying that there’ll be more times. Implying that he wants to be completely and totally present. Implying that pain and hormones have nothing to do with how much he wants this. It’s a lot of reading between the lines, but it’s about as much as he can manage. He never was super good at the whole emotional honesty thing. 

Besides, he trusts Dirk’s skills as a detective to pick up what he’s putting down.

And as Dirk’s eyes soften in understanding, as a warm smile breaks across his face like the sunrise, he proves that Todd’s faith is well-founded.

Todd smiles, cups Dirk’s face, and leans in to taste him one more time.

And then another time.

And then a few more.

_...Screw it, _ he decides, whining a little as Dirk’s tongue slips into his mouth.  _ Just ‘cause we’re not having sex doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. _

And if he  _ is  _ still a little in heat, well… what’s a little medicinal fooling around between best friends?

 

* * *

When Farah finally finds her way back into the office- at the expense of the sofa, which lies in rough pieces in the stairwell after she grew tired of seeking a non-violent solution- she immediately wishes she’d knocked.

But to be fair, you’d think the sound of rigorous chainsawing would be enough to pry those two losers’ lips apart.

And you’d think the five minutes it took to loudly disembowel the obstructive furniture would be enough time for them to put their damn shirts back on, too.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Todd was so worried about doesn’t happen until nearly two weeks later. Long, long after the last of Todd’s heat hormones have calmed down, with no sign of a fresh resurgence on the horizon. But he wants to be sure.

And despite the bumps (or knots) in the road, it really  _ was  _ worth the wait.

“Todd?”

“Mm?” Todd mumbles, already half asleep beneath his cosy living blanket.

Dirk pets his hair ponderously, face tucked into the crook of his neck like it belongs there. “Just out of curiosity- and by all means, feel free to change your answer at any time- where  _ do  _ we currently stand on the matter of your next heat?”

“If you don’t fuck me I’m quitting my job.”

“Jolly good _.  _ As you were.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dub-con events summary (spoiler alert): Todd is in heat, and trapped in a fairly confined space with an alpha. As he's not very used to dealing with them alone yet and hasn't any alternative measures in place, he makes advances on Dirk. Hands stay above the belt, there's some kissing and grinding, but Dirk repeatedly pushes him away because he knows Todd can't give informed consent- although he does desire Todd and this desire is mentioned and entertained, but Dirk feels guilty and shuts it down. He eventually has to pin Todd by the neck to keep him still, but it's non-sexual and an attempt to keep him calm. When Todd's heat has subsided they kiss. They decide not to have sex as Todd's still experiencing hormonal imbalances, but he's lucid enough to consent to more harmless activities and they make out shirtless. Late ron sex is alluded to, but it's non-heat driven and entirely consensual.
> 
> If you've read [come on, put your moon in my sun (and set me on fire)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316024), you already know exactly how that magical first time went.
> 
> Hope you liked this- if you did, please let me know, I'll think about writing more long-form entries like this in the series in future. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> I'm not sure what the next entry will be yet, but I am hoping to dabble in some alpha Farah/omega Tina at some point, so that may be on the horizon.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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